


Closeted Confessions (Made in a Bathroom)

by thatmasquedgirl



Series: Pineapple Investigations [4]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Psych
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Crack, Alternative Universe - No Island, Backstory, Best Friends, Bisexual Character, Bisexuality, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Crack and Angst, Episode: s02e09 Bounty Hunters!, F/M, Fake Psychics, Fluff and Crack, Light Angst, Male-Female Friendship, Olicity Hiatus Fic-A-Thon, Olicity Hiatus Fic-A-Thon 2018, One Shot, POV Felicity Smoak, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt, Unresolved Sexual Tension, no vigilantes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 09:27:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15070202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatmasquedgirl/pseuds/thatmasquedgirl
Summary: Oliver and Felicity come clean.  Literally.  They both take showers.More Pineapple Investigations, this time involving a towel, two confessions, and an awkward entrance.Takes place shortly after "The Truth Will Set You Free (Or Maybe Not)."Written for TheBookJumper's Olicity Hiatus Fic-A-Thon 2018. Prompt:  closed door.





	Closeted Confessions (Made in a Bathroom)

**Author's Note:**

> I'll admit, I had a lot of fun with this one. It would have been finished Monday if not for the fact I've been crashing every day when I get home for work.
> 
> I'm hoping y'all enjoy it, too. Sorry I've been so unpredictable about posting and responding, and thanks for sticking with me! :)

Waking up, Felicity takes a moment to stretch, groaning at the soreness in her shoulder. Frowning, she nestles deeper into her blankets. There’s nothing quite as lovely as a warm bed on a cold morning, especially when the sheets are soft and the comforter is fluffy. It’s a shame she’ll have to get up eventually.

She stops in the middle of snuggling into it. Her comforter is not fluffy. In fact, she had to throw hers away two weeks ago because it was full of holes, and she’s yet to buy another one.

Her eyes fly open immediately, and she’s met with the sight of her favorite oversized chair, orange with intricate paisley designs and pale blue arms. It’s both elegant and hideous, but it somehow fits nicely with the rest of the decor in Oliver’s room.

Oliver’s room. She sits up quickly, hair flying into her face. Not Oliver’s room in his infamous bachelor pad, but back home, in Queen manor. No matter how long they go without coming back, his room always seems to be as he left it. She makes a face. “I’m surprised Mrs. Queen hasn’t thrown you out yet,” she whispers to the chair.

Brushing her hair out of her face, she stretches, staring up at the rafters over her head. They’re painted chocolate brown, both warm and inviting. It’s even nicer knowing that Oliver’s loft area is over head.

The idea makes her smile. Mrs. Queen told Felicity years ago that she could have her own room, but instead, they just remodeled Oliver’s to give her a small space: a full bed, an oversized chair for reading, a side table, a dresser, and a small bookshelf. Combined with a little bit of closet space and some items in the bathroom, she has all the space she needs here.

Throwing her legs over the edge of the bed, she remembers coming back here after last night’s events. First some psychopath shot her with an arrow and she was trampled in the panic, and then Lance arrested Oliver for _murder_. After that insanity, Oliver’s family needed to see him and she hadn’t wanted to be alone. With her mother in Las Vegas, Queen manor was the only choice.

Still half-asleep, Felicity stumbles toward the _en suite_ bathroom. Every time she walks in, she expects it to be a disaster, but it’s clean and neat. She reminds herself to thank Raisa for cleaning up after his lazy ass.

While wiping her bleary eyes, she shuts the door behind her, peeling off her clothes. A shower would be nice. Maybe afterward she can beg Raisa for her chocolate chip pancakes.

Grabbing a towel from the cabinet, she unfolds it and starts to drape it over the towel rack when the door opens.

Oliver stumbles in, rubbing at his eyes. His hair sticks up in all directions, more noticeable with his staring at the floor. He isn’t wearing a shirt, and the drawstring on his pants is poorly tied, allowing them to sit dangerously low on his hips. Felicity’s mouth goes dry.

“Hey, Smoak,” he mumbles in a voice rough with sleep, “could I pee before you get in the shower? I can run across to Thea’s room, but she gets pissed when I do that—something about an invasion of privacy.” He stops rubbing his eyes to look up at her, and they go wide.

Felicity immediately holds the towel to her chest. “Oliver, the door was closed for a reason!” she screeches, causing him to jump. He only blinks several times. “ _Get out!_ ”

This time he shakes his head. “Sorry,” he blurts. “I…” He motions to her. Oliver’s eyes rake over her exposed side, even though she holds the towel to the front of her body. “It’s just…” He shifts in place, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m sorry, Felicity.”

“ _Oliver!_ ” she tries again, pointing behind him.

“Yeah, I’ll just…” He turns and slips out the door, shutting it behind him.

For a moment, all she can do is stand there, trying to make sense of what just happened. Oliver _definitely_ checked her out. Based on his reaction, he not only did he do it, but he also liked what he saw. Her towel drops to the ground at that conclusion.

“I can’t deal with this right now,” Felicity tells herself, shaking her head. She gathers her towel and steps into the shower, turning the valve.

It takes her a solid thirty minutes under the spray of the water just to get her mind to stop replaying what happened. It’s only after that when she’s able to wash up.

Finally, she turns off the shower and wraps herself in the large towel. As she’s starting to get her toothbrush ready, there’s a knock at the door. “Can I come in?” Oliver asks in a quiet voice.

After her affirmative, the door opens. He grabs his toothbrush off the counter. After applying his toothpaste to it, he knocks his hip against hers, the same way he always does when they share a sink. Felicity returns it to let him know he’s forgiven, and he beams at her.

He clears his throat. “Sorry about barging in on you, Smoak,” Oliver offers. “I know I should have looked away, but I couldn’t do anything but stare.”

Felicity has to take a moment to rinse her mouth before figuring out what to say. Motioning to her shoulder, she finally admits, “The bruising is definitely worse today.” A dark patch of skin covers the entire length of her shoulder, where multiple footprints overlapped. It’s a miracle they didn’t break her collarbone.

Oliver nearly chokes on his toothpaste. After rinsing his mouth out, he clarifies, “I wasn’t staring because you look like your shoulder is rotting off.” She throws him a withering glance, and he holds his hands up. “What? It does.” He leans in to whisper conspiratorially, “It might have escaped your attention, Smoak, but I’m a straight guy.”

She rolls her eyes. “You might have mentioned that once or twice,” she replies in a dry tone.

Ignoring her, he adds, “So I happen to notice when I’m staring at a beautiful woman.”

“Me, too,” Felicity teases.

“Then it should be easy for you,” Oliver replies. “All you have to do is look in a mirror.” She only gapes for a moment before he ruins the compliment. “I saw pretty much everything.”

Her face suddenly feels too hot. A glance in the mirror is enough to see that her face and neck are the color of a fire engine. “I should go get dressed,” she mutters to his feet, moving toward the door.

Before she can take more than two steps, he catches her arm, turning her to face him again. “Hey,” he says in a gentle tone, “you have _nothing_ to be embarrassed about.” His eyes rake over her again. “And I don’t just mean about what happened this morning. That was my fault.” He gestures to her body in a vague motion. “But you also shouldn’t be embarrassed about anything _here_ , either.”

For the second time in as many moments, he’s given her a compliment, and it’s suddenly more than Felicity can take. Between her attraction to Oliver and his kind words, she hardly knows what to do with him. “I can’t do this with you right now,” she finally declares. “We need more clothes for this conversation. You’re half-naked and I’m wearing a towel.”

He suddenly releases her arm, and Felicity fights away a sigh of relief. He nods several times to himself before finally saying, “Well, I guess you probably need to get dressed and go feed Mrs. Pickles.”

Felicity huffs a sigh. “That cat is a figment of your imagination. You know damn well I don’t actually own a cat.”

“Oh.” He actually has the nerve to look surprised. “Well, in that case…” Before she can predict his actions, he takes two steps closer, so that she has to tilt her head up to look at him. Instead of stopping there, he leans down painfully close—both too close and not close enough.

“Oliver,” she manages to squeak out two octaves too high. It causes him to stop, and she pauses as she looks between his eyes and his far too close lips. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he replies innocently.

“Then why are you so close?” she challenges.

He’s never been one to back down, and it shouldn’t surprise her that he doesn’t now. “I call it very close talking,” he replies, innocently enough. It doesn’t escape her notice that his pupils are dilated.

“It kind of seems like you’re about to kiss me,” she tries again.

To both her relief and dismay, he pulls away slightly. “I would never presume to do that,” Oliver assures her, in a way that isn’t very reassuring at all. “I make the first move on other women.” After a heartbeat, he offers her a gentle smile. “ _You_ would have to be the one to kiss _me._ ”

She doesn’t even know why it surprises her anymore. “Of course you’d put all the work on me,” she replies sarcastically, shaking her head.

“How else am I supposed to know if you like me, Smoak?” he retorts.

Felicity puts an index finger to her chin, tilting her head to the side in false thought. “Why, Oliver, I thought you were psychic,” she teases.

It makes him smile. “Cute, Smoak.”

Another thought occurs to her, and this one comes out of her mouth without permission: “How am I supposed to know if _you_ like _me?_ ”

Oliver scoffs. “Please, Smoak,” he drawls. “You’re crazy smart, you’re funny, you’re kind, and you’re _ridiculously_ beautiful.” He gestures around them. “And you don’t give a damn about any of this.”

“Your bathroom?” Felicity teases.

“My fortune,” Oliver corrects. After a moment, he allows, “But, yeah, it _is_ a pretty nice bathroom.”

“You don’t get access to your trust fund until you’re thirty,” she points out.

He makes a face. If it was anyone else, Felicity would almost think he was acting shy. “You are actually the only person I’ve ever told that,” he confesses.

She wouldn’t be more surprised if he told her he was going to buy her a parrot. “Oh,” she finally manages to say.

Shaking his head, Oliver says, “You derailed my train of thought again, Smoak. My point about singing your virtues isn’t to tell you my secrets.” He offers her a tentative smile. “My point is that every person you meet is going to be a little in love with you.”

This time, she’s the one to scoff. “You should tell that to Max Fuller.” No one quite hated her as much as Max; he was especially vicious in his torment of her.

“I did, right after I broke his nose,” Oliver assures her.

She blinks twice; she’d forgotten that Oliver had been suspended for a week just before Max started avoiding her. Her best friend had never mentioned what happened. “That is…” Her mouth opens, but nothing comes out for a moment. “Surprisingly sweet of you.”

He shrugs. “I’m a surprisingly sweet guy.”

Rolling her eyes, she can’t help but tease him. “So if everyone I meet is a little in love with me,” she starts slowly, “does that include you, too?”

“Especially me,” he assures her without missing a beat. There’s something too frank about the confession; Oliver doesn’t express his feelings easily. He takes a deep breath, and she realizes he’s actively trying to be honest about this with her. “I am _stupidly_ in love with you.”

Before she can do much more than gape and hope this isn’t a dream, he holds up his hands. “I’m not trying to freak you out, so don’t hide in that big brain of yours,” he assures her. “I just said it because it’s true.” The smile he throws her is hollow. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I’m not trying to change anything between us. I just wanted to say it out loud.” He shifts his feet. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time now. It’s taken me a while to work up the courage.”

Because her mouth hates her, the first words to leave it are: “Why now?”

When he sighs, the mask of false cheer he wears everywhere finally seems to slip. “If you had two minutes to live, who would be your first call?” he asks her suddenly.

“My mom,” is her instant reply, which causes her to cringe. “I guess I should have said you.”

One corner of his mouth lifts. “Mine would be Thea,” he replies, and it sounds like he’s trying to console her. “You are one of the most important people in my life, Smoak, but I wouldn’t ever worry about a last phone call to you.” He motions between them. “You and I don’t leave things unspoken.

“Last night, I was headed to jail for murder and you were shot by some psychopath with a bow.” Felicity shivers at the reminder. “I thought I wasn’t going to see you again.” He runs a hand over his face. “For the first time, I had something to tell you in a last phone call.” He offers a shy smile. “I fell in love with you the night you stood up to my dad and called him a douche for failing to see how brilliant I am.”

“He _was_ a douche for that,” Felicity insists.

When he laughs, there’s no humor in the sound. “I’ve never known what you see in me.”

“In Oliver Queen?” Felicity asks. “Nothing. He’s a massive tool.” They both laugh. She can’t resist cupping his face. “But _this_ Oliver, the one who’s loyal to a fault and loves classic literature?” She grins. “He’s pretty amazing.”

Taking one of her hands between both of his, he says quietly, “Thanks, Smoak.”

Squaring her shoulders, Felicity decides Oliver isn’t the only one who has to be brave today. “Since we’re making confessions today…” His eyes immediately lock onto hers. She isn’t sure if that makes things easier or more difficult. “I had a massive crush on you in high school.”

His eyes light up. “Yeah?”

Felicity nods. “You were funny and cute and always said the right thing. You had your pick of girls, but you never treated one of them like they were disposable.” She waves a hand. “That was before you told me you were a virgin and didn’t know to get to third base, so I thought you were sleeping with them. But you knew all their names and showed them nothing but respect.

“Do you remember the day we met?” she asks rhetorically. “I was being bullied again and was in the library. I was crying in the science fiction section because it was hidden in the back corner.” She smiles at the memory. “You picked a random book and sat down next to me. You said you hated to see anyone upset but you didn’t really know how to comfort me, so what were my thoughts on Isaac Asimov?”

Oliver laughs. “We stayed so long they forgot we were there and locked us in,” he adds.

“That was the day it stopped being just a crush,” Felicity continues, taking his hand and squeezing it. “That was the day I fell for you.” His eyes go wide, and she laughs. “You’re the most observant person I’ve ever met, but you haven’t noticed I’ve been in love with you for, like, twelve years?”

He ignores the gibe, shifting in place as he stares down at his feet. “So… are you seeing anyone, Smoak?”

“Yes,” she answers quickly, and his face falls. “He’s the most amazing man I’ve ever met. He’s a genius, but he hides it behind a goofball exterior.” Her smile softens. “He brags about every conquest, but behind that hides someone who remembers every name and detail. He can’t be a cop because of his criminal record, but he’s found a way to help solve crimes and put away criminals anyway.” She places her hands on either side of Oliver’s face. “And he’s been the best friend I could ever want for twelve years.”

Felicity tries to remember the last time Oliver’s face broke into a grin that large, but nothing comes to mind. “Good,” he says after a pause. “Then he won’t mind if I do _this_.”

Before Felicity can fully process what’s happening, he has her by the waist, lifting her onto the counter top. She barely has time to release a breath in surprise before his mouth is on hers. His hands stay at her waist, but hers move to his face as her legs lock over his hips.

For years, she’s dreamed about kissing him. As a teenager, it was all she could ever think about, and she’s never been able to shake the curiosity of what his lips would feel like. She’s imagined it and fantasized it for at least the past decade, taken those years to build her expectations.

His kiss exceeds each and every one of them.

Just before it can turn needy and wanting in an entirely different way, Oliver pulls away. Gasping for breath, he leans his forehead against hers. They both close their eyes as Felicity decides this might be more intimate than the kiss.

When he can finally speak again, Oliver says, “If it’s okay with you, I don’t want to rush into anything.” He places a hand to her face. “Can we take this a little slow? You’re too important for me to make a mistake.”

God, she wants to kiss him again. “I think that sounds reasonable,” she says finally. “Even if it’s going to be hard.”

Sighing, he presses his lips to the junction between her neck and shoulder. “It’s _already_ hard from where I’m standing,” he mutters against her skin. “ _Painfully_ hard.”

“You’re the one who stopped,” Felicity can’t help but remind him.

“That’s because you mean more to me than just a quickie in the bathroom,” he replies. After helping her off the counter, he glances down her body again and groans. “You should probably go get dressed before I do something stupid. I need to take a shower.” He glances downward, frowning. “A very _cold_ shower.”

She takes several steps away before turning back. “After we get dressed, do you want to beg Raisa for chocolate chip pancakes?” she asks.

“Sounds good,” he replies. Oliver glances to the counter before looking back to her. “Sorry that I kissed you for the first time in a bathroom.” He grimaces. “Not very romantic.”

Laughing, Felicity replies, “Just promise to take me somewhere nicer on our first date. Like a closet.”

Oliver winks with that mischievous grin she’s come to know so well over the years. “I’d never ask you to go in the closet for me, Smoak.”

Unable to stop the question, this time she asks, “Are you ever gonna call me Felicity?”

His grin is wicked. “I’ll call you by your first name,” he bargains, “if you promise we can role-play Psych-Man and Magic Hair next year at Comic Con.”

“Never gonna happen.”

“But they’re our alter-egos!”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then have it your way, Smoak.”


End file.
